


Imagine...

by LtTanyaBoone



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, imagineyourotp challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short oneshots written for posts on the imagineyourotp tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. lost in the woods

> _Imagine your OTP lost in the woods.  It’s evening and it’s starting to get cold.  Person A puts half of their jacket around Person B.  There is a strange noise from somewhere in the darkness, and they draw closer together._

McGee startled when the flashlight suddenly went out and they were plunged into complete darkness. He heard Ziva let out a soft gasp as she ran right into him.

“Sorry.” he muttered, hitting the flashlight and shaking it, as if that was going to revive the dead batteries. Still he couldn’t help the tiny, desperate bit of hope that he wouldn’t have to continue on on this path without light.

Ziva took the flashlight from him and clicked it a few times before she let out a suppressed shriek. She shoved the thing back at him and dug around in her backpack, finding the small flashlight inside that they used to look for details at crime scenes sometimes. She turned it on and gave a huff when the small circle hit the ground.

“That’s not going to help much.” she said, her knuckles turning white.

“Better than nothing.” Tim shrugged, starting to continue down the path when he suddenly hesitated. They had paused and he knew they had shuffled a little… were they still looking in the direction that they needed to go in or already the one they had come from.

“This way.” Ziva said, starting to continue on before he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“How can you be sure?” he asked, swallowing to keep himself from telling her that he was dead afraid of getting lost in these woods.

Ziva aimed the flashlight behind them, moving it around on the path. “Because we have trampled everything in sight.” she informed him and though he couldn’t see her raise an eyebrow, he knew what kind of look would be on her face right now.

“Right.” he muttered, suddenly becoming aware of how he was still grasping her elbow. He quickly let go of her and buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket, ready to follow her when he saw her shiver slightly. Ziva shook her head and started following the path again.

What had been difficult before was now damn near impossible. She kept moving the flashlight around and McGee was starting to get dizzy from following it all over the place with his eyes. When he made to tell her to stop that, he suddenly realized that only part of the motion was intentionally. Ziva was hugging her free arm to herself and shivering violently in the cool fall air. Tim suddenly became aware of how cold his ears and nose were. He stopped and unzipped his jacket, causing Ziva to halt. When he held it out to her, she aimed the flashlight at his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re freezing.” Tim pointed out and this time he saw her roll her eyes.

“I’m fine.” she protested, groaning when her teeth chattered briefly.

“Come on, I’m wearing a sweater and a shirt, you’re just in this thin thing.” he insisted. When Ziva still made no move to accept the jacket, he crossd the small space between them and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“There.” he declared with a grin, one that only grew when she held the flashlight out to him so she could put his jacket on properly. When she was done, Tim saw her inhale the smell on the collar of his jacket and lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

“Thank you, Tim.” Ziva muttered, looking up at him in the darkness. She was so impossibly close all of a sudden, he could feel her breath on his face. Just as he was starting to lean in, something cracked in the underwood, making them jump apart. He aimed the flashlight at some bushes, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt Ziva press her back against his and heard her pull out her gun.

“We should keep moving.” she muttered. Tim nodded, feeling her step away from him again. He turned around and they both started down the path again, their hearts in their throats.

fin.


	2. baby's first night at home

> _Imagine your OTP looking down at their child sleeping for the first time in its crib. Not saying anything, just watching and smiling._

Ziva rested her hands on the railing of the crib, watching the child sleep inside. Their daughter. After months of fighting and hope and disappointment and tears, she was finally here, finally home, with them, sleeping soundly in her bed.

She felt Tim step up behind her. Her husband wrapped her arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, peering down at Amy. The little girl drew a deep breath, her mouth opening slightly so her pacifier slipped out.

Ziva tensed, watching the face of the nine months old child. The little girl let out a soft sigh and her fingers twitched but she settled again.

Tim hugged her and pressed a kiss to her neck before letting go of her and grabbing the camera on the dresser. He turned it on and Ziva whirled around at the loud beep the thing made, glaring at her husband already. Tim flinched and gave her an apologetic look, carefully sneaking back to the crib to find that Amy was still fast asleep. He switched off the flash and took a picture, showing it to Ziva before he switched the camera off again and set it down.

Ziva wrapped her arm around him and snuggled into his side as they continued to stand at their child’s crib, watching the little girl sleep and the pent-up tension of the last few months, numerous meetings with the adoption agency and let downs slowly left them. She felt Tim wrap his arm around her shoulder as he pressed a kiss to her temple and gave a satisfied sigh, focusing again on their child sleeping peacefully in their home for the very first time.


	3. adding to the family

> _Imagine your OTP looking for a pet to adopt together._

Ziva felt more than a little silly as she sat down in the grass, watching the puppies play with each other, unimpressed by the two humans suddenly in their play area.

It took a few moments until they even became aware of them, and the first one of the litter came trotting over, sniffing at them before deciding that they weren’t half as interesting as that ball he had just been slobbering all over. His litter mates came over, too, two of them trying to climb Ziva and one doing the same with Tim, while the fourth decided to have a nibble on her boyfriend’s shoes.

“Hey there.” Tim said, carefully lifting the puppy up and removing him from his shoes. The puppy looked at him with a tilted head and lolling tongue before he let out a bark, kicking his legs excitedly.

They spent almost an hour with the puppies, playing and cuddling with them. When the breeder came back and gave them a questioning look, Tim stood and helped Ziva up, who kissed the puppy she had been holding, laughing when she licked her face before she sat it down.

“Have you made a decision?” the breeder asked was they climbed over the fence.

“Yeah. Well, we have.” Tim nodded, looking back at the dogs.

“We like the one with the turquoise collar.” Ziva informed the woman, taking the scrunchie out of her hair and shaking out her curls. The puppy was cute, as much as her litter mates, but she wasn’t as energetic as two others or as shy as some. She enjoyed being petted and didn’t protest being picked up, either.

“The thing is, we already have a dog. Jethro’s old and he’s been pretty down lately, since we moved, actually. We thought that a new puppy might help him, and we’ve just gotten a house with a big yard…”

“You want to introduce them first, before you make your final decision.” the woman caught on and Tim and Ziva nodded.

“Yeah, we’d prefer to test the waters first, so to speak.” Ziva said. The other woman tilted her head briefly, considering them.

“Tell you what, why don’t you bring Jethro here tomorrow? If they get along here, I’ll come with you to your house and we’ll see how he reacts to have his territory invaded, and if that works out, you have a two week trial run in case anything pops up once they are around each other all the time.” she suggested. “How does that sound?”

Ziva turned her head and shared a look with her husband before Tim nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.” he smiled, shaking the hand of the breeder and smiling at the prospect of possibly adding another member to their family.

_fin._


	4. just shut up

> Imagine your otp having their first kiss when A kisses B to shut him/her up and it keeps going from there.

Tim blinked in surprise when Ziva suddenly leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips, shutting up his rant about how unrealistic the movie was.

He wasn’t really sure what surprised him more: that Ziva had actually kissed him, or the spark of pleasure zinging through him at the contact of her lips.

He heard the seconds tick by in his head and saw her eyes widen in her own surprise. Still, she made no attempt to lean back, get back to her place on the couch. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut and Tim felt her tongue trace over his lips carefully, sending a shock of longing through him. His hands found her hips and pulled her into his lap just as he opened his mouth to respond to the kiss. Ziva’s hands went to his neck before they buried in his hair and she leaned into him as the kiss escalated further.

The movie still playing in the background was well forgotten by the time he slipped his hands under her shirt to have Ziva arch against him, a soft moan escaping her lips between kisses.

“Ziva…” he breathed, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against hers.

“What?” she mumbled, trailing her hands over his chest before she started unbuttoning his shirt and claimed his lips again.

“Maybe we shouldn’t-” Tim offered a weak protest, at which Ziva immediately broke the kiss, leaning back in his lap and making him groan as her hips moved against his. She searched his face wordlessly, reaching up to brush a strand of her curls from her face. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, damn he did. He hadn’t been aware of how much, really, but at the same time he’d never entertained any illusion that the crush he had had on her when she had first started working at NCIS hadn’t developed into something deeper over the years. Still, he had never thought that he’d actually get to act on any of his feelings; he had assumed that Ziva would never be interested in someone like him, that she didn’t find him attractive and only saw him as a friend…

“Perhaps you’re right.” she offered, squinting slightly at him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Tim sat up and pulled her in for another kiss, softer than the ones before, less hurried, though that didn’t stay the case for too long.

“Forget what I said.” he breathed against her lips and felt her grin as her hands returned to the task of getting his shirt off, chuckling to himself when she gave a frustrated growl when the material didn’t cooperate fast enough for her liking.

He had no idea how they actually made it to his bedroom, or what had gotten into them all of a sudden. In the moments when he had previously allowed himself to imagine what it would be like, having sex with Ziva, it had always been sort of sweet, slow, but the reality ended up surprising him with its need and urgency. They couldn’t stop touching each other and get out of their clothes fast enough, matching each other’s hurried urgency to get closer and closer still.

* * *

When he was lying next to her afterwards, trying to catch his breath, Ziva ran her hand over his naked back and made him wince at the sting it caused.

“Sorry.” she whispered and he felt her kiss his shoulder, dimly remembering the sensation of her nails biting into his skin.

“Tis okay.” he mumbled, reaching out to trace the hickey on her collarbone with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t even remember kissing her there. Ziva shuddered slightly, her eyes fluttering closed as he let his hand slip lower, tracing her sternum. She arched her back into his touch, white teeth biting down on her bottom lip. Tim leaned up to kiss her as Ziva shifted, hooking her leg around his and rolling them over so that she was straddling him. When he broke the kiss, he found her gazing down at him with an almost gleeful expression that slowly morphed into seriousness again. She ran her hand through his hair, watching his face.

“What just happened?” Ziva asked him, her voice barely audible as her eyes flickered to his, anxiety starting to show on her features.

Tim reached up to brush her hair from her face and stroke her cheek.

“I have no idea.” he admitted softly, furrowing his brows. “But whatever it was, it was pretty amazing.” he added with a soft smile, delighted to see her smile before she tilted her head at him, her dark eyes sparkling.

“It was.” she agreed, trailing her hands over his chest before she raised an eyebrow at him. “Care for a repeat performance?” she asked. Instead of answering her, Tim pulled her down into another kiss.


	5. sometimes life surprises you

> _Imagine your OTP finding out they're pregnant again after having a miscarriage the first time._

Ziva drew a shuddering breath, her hand starting to shake. She clenched her eyes shut and braced herself against the sink, fighting down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. When she felt her stomach settle, she opened her eyes again, catching sight of her reflection in the bathroom mirror and recoiling slightly. She looked like something that cat had dragged in.

Her eyes flickered to the home pregnancy test she was still clutching and she forced herself to look at it again, just to make sure. No, the second pink line hadn’t disappeared. It was still there, brighter than before. At least it seemed like it to her.

Shaking her head, she set the test down and turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to cool down before she washed her face repeatedly, hoping that the ice cold water would pull her out of her stupor. But when she reached for the towel to dry her face, her hands were still shaking, and Ziva suddenly felt her stomach turn again. She dropped the cloth and turned around, yanking up the seat of the toilet as she started retching.

“Oh God.” Ziva muttered when she finally was able to catch her breath again. She slowly stood, flushed the toilet and cleaned herself up. Just as she left the bathroom, she heard the door to their apartment open and Tim call out briefly before Jethro’s excited bark sounded in their home. The German Shepherd came bounding down the hallway and jumped up at Ziva, trying to lick her face.

“Hey there.” she muttered, patting the dog’s head absentmindedly.

“You look like hell.” Tim exclaimed when she walked into the living room, Jethro in tow. Ziva rolled her eyes, turning her face when he moved in to kiss her. Still, Tim crinkled his nose.

“Have you been sick?” he asked carefully, reaching out to stroke her cheek. Ziva opened her mouth, unsure of what to say. “You don’t feel warm.” her husband continued, furrowing his brows. “Stomach bug?”

“Not exactly.” Ziva admitted, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. They had said that they were done. That there was no point in continuing to try for a baby when it always ended in heartbreak for both of them, especially after the last time. After almost fourteen months of trying, Ziva had finally gotten pregnant, and they’d been ecstatic and filled with joy over that fact. Until three months ago, when they had been watching TV together when Ziva had suddenly gasped in pain and clutched her stomach. Tim had driven her to ER immediately, but the bleeding had started on the way, and once they arrived, there had been nothing the doctors could do. After seeing how heart-broken, how devastated his wife had been, Tim had said he didn’t want to try again, that they should wait a while before they looked into adoption, and Ziva had readily agreed with him. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle another miscarriage, to have their dreams so close to coming true only to see them yanked away yet again…

“Ziva?” her husband’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she felt the tears well up in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close, hiding her face in his chest as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Instinctively, Tim wrapped his arms around her and held her, cradling her head in one hand.

“It’s okay.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her dark curls. “Sh, it’s okay, Ziva. I’m here, everything’s gonna be alright.”

Ziva clutched at him, her hands twisting into the fabric of his shirt as she tried to get a grip. When she finally calmed down enough to let him go and wipe the tears off her face, she found him looking at her with worry in his green eyes.

“What’s going on, Ziva?” Tim asked her, wiping a tear away. Ziva bit her lip before she drew a deep breath. “Talk to me. Please.”

“I’m pregnant.” she breathed, holding her breath. Tim blinked in surprise, his mouth moving soundlessly for a few seconds.

“But…” he got out as he shook his head. “Forget about that.” he said, searching her face. “How are you feeling?” Tim asked her carefully, but she could see the joy beginning to sparkle in his eyes as he tried to contain his excitement.

“I… don’t know.” she frowned, running her hand over his chest idly before she looked up at him. “I’m scared.” Ziva admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that it will end, end like… last time.” she breathed, closing her eyes against the tears that were welling up again. She felt Tim tighten his hold on her and his lips brushed her forehead.

“Whatever happens,” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers as he pulled her close, “I’m right here. Every step along the way.” he promised and Ziva nodded mutely, inhaling his scent and hoping with all her might that this time, everything would be alright.


	6. right then, right there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I point out that I might not follow these prompts to the letter. Meaning I took some artistic license with this one. Okay, fine, a lot of artistic license. Sue me.

> _Imagine Person A of your OTP has a little sister/brother he has to watch for the day who wants to go to the carnival. Persona A decides to invite Person B, and they are mistaken for a married couple and their daughter/son countless times._

“Uncle Gee!”

McGee quickly wrapped his arms around the boy and hoisted him up when Evan jumped on him with a laugh.

“Oof, you’re getting big.” he mumbled, almost shocked at how heavy the boy had gotten. Or perhaps he had just been a little lazy with his workouts again.

“Big enough for the cool rides?” the boy grinned at him.

“We’ll see once we get there.” Ziva’s voice chimed in as she stepped up to them, running her hand down the boy’s back. “Go on, get your coat and backpack.” she told him, waiting as Tim set the boy down before Evan ran off, his curls bouncing.

“Why do I have the feeling Palmer and Breena knew why they didn’t take him themselves?” Tim wondered suspiciously as he watched Evan race around Ziva’s apartment in excitement as he searched for his second shoe.

“He can be quite a handful.” she admitted, casting a glance at her friend. “Thank you for coming along, I’m not sure I’d take him by myself.”

“No problem.” Tim shook his head, catching the boy when he ran into him again. He reached out to ruffle his hair and got a tooth grin from Evan before he held out his shoes.

“Tie them.” he told the man, causing Ziva to roll her eyes.

“Can you please tie my shoes, Uncle Tim?” she said after bumping the boy. Evan frowned at her briefly before he flopped down into the floor and put them on, sticking his legs out for Tim.

“Please.” he added, his big green eyes staring up at the man, and McGee gave a soft sigh. He was a goner every single time Evan pulled that stunt with him. Which might’ve been why Palmer had asked Ziva to watch the boy while he and Breena took a week off to themselves. The Israeli was surprisingly good at being stern with the boy. Which in itself might not have been such a big surprise, but after how her and Abby had gushed over him when he was a baby, and Abby’s complete lack of chastising of the boy, it had been strange to see how Ziva could go from cuddly aunt with big smiles and laughs to giving such stern looks that it made Tim glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of them.

When he looked up from having fixed the boy’s shoes, Ziva was back from the kitchen, holding Evan’s green backpack and her own jacket.

“Ready to go?” Tim asked the boy, lifting him up to stand on his feet again. Evan nodded enthusiastically, jumping up and down on the spot, but Ziva grabbed the hood of his open jacket before he could dart out the door.

“Oh no.” she shook her head, bending down to the boy. “Are you thirsty?” she asked him, but Evan shook his head. “Hungry?” she tried again, this time the boy hesitated before shaking his head again. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?” she asked finally. Evan’s eyes widened and he nodded before racing off again.

“Mishap?” McGee asked, causing Ziva to groan.

“We tried to go grocery shopping yesterday. As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, he declared he needed to pee.” she confirmed, giving him a mild glare when her friend had the nerve to chuckle at that. Once Evan returned, Ziva checked his backpack again one last time before declaring them ready to go, and the three finally left her apartment.

* * *

“One hotdog and a pretzel, please.” Tim told the vendor and pulled out his wallet.

“Something for Mom, too?” the man asked when Ziva lifted Evan up so he could grab his hotdog. The boy paused, frowning at the man.

“She’s not my mom.” he informed the stranger, causing the man to blanch.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay.” Ziva assured the man, setting Evan down again and taking a few steps to the side so they could eat in peace.

“Why did the man think you’re my mom?” Evan asked her before biting in his hotdog. Ziva shrugged, running a hand through the boy’s blonde curls.

“Well, most people take their own children to the carnival.” she explained, taking a seat on the bench next to him and getting his apple juice from the boy’s backpack. Evan munched on his food and kicked his legs when Tim joined them.

“Why are you taking me?” he asked the man, his eyes wide and innocent. Tim furrowed his brows and shot Ziva a questioning look, causing the Israeli to sigh.

“Because we love you and want you to have fun with us.” she told the boy, reaching out to wipe his mouth with a napkin when he held out the remainder of his hotdog out to her with the declaration that he was finished.

“But Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t take me.” Evan frowned at his feet. Tim exchanged his pretzel with Evan’s hotdog, knowing that Ziva wasn’t going to eat it.

“That’s the thing about aunts and uncles,” he said, winking at Evan, “you get to do all the cool stuff with them and tell your parents about it.”

That seemed to settle things for the boy, because the next thing he did was smile brightly and declare that he wanted to find out if he was big enough for the scare ride.

* * *

“He jumpy?” the man at the House of Horror asked when Ziva handed over the tickets.

“I’m not scared.” Evan declared with a frown at the man, but the hold he had on Tim’s hand still tightened considerably.

“I was asking for your Daddy.” the guy in the vampire make-up replied, causing Ziva to groan inwardly. This was the fifth time people mistook them for Evan’s parents, and it was really starting to get old.

“He’s not-”

“Don’t go overboard on the sudden appearances.” Ziva said over Evan’s protest and ushered the two men along. Thankfully, they were in a group with two more children around Evan’s age, and Ziva found herself laughing at the actors’ attempts to put a lighthearted, funny twist on their usual performance, which included a zombie and a vampire tripping over each other in an attempt to get to their “food”, as well as a witch hissing and backing away when the little girl whispered an “expecto patronum” at her father’s prompting.

Once they were out and Tim had managed to pry Evan’s arms from around his neck and set the boy down again (Ziva had never considered that fake cobwebs could be that frightening, but apparently they were for Evan), they decided they needed something quiet and slow.

She’d never have suggested it, but when Evan pointed to the Ferris Wheel, Tim declared that to be a good pick, though he only paid for two tickets and said he needed to use the restroom with a pointed look at Evan when Ziva raised an eyebrow.

The more they rose into the air, Ziva began to worry that Evan might also not be too fond of heights, but the boy was staring down with big eyes while she tugged down his shirt and held onto him so he wouldn’t grow careless.

“I can see the entrance from up here!” Evan declared excitedly, grinning at Ziva, who smiled back at him, pointing into the distance where the parking lot was, causing the boy’s eyes to almost pop out. Impulsively, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Evan’s temple. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her neck tightly.

“I love you, Auntie Ziva.” he mumbled. The Israeli swallowed thickly as she hugged him back.

“I love you, too, munchkin.” she whispered, ruffling his hair teasingly.

* * *

“Go ahead and brush your teeth, I’ll be right there.” Ziva told Evan after she had helped him take off his jacket and shirt and the boy went running in the direction of the bathroom. Tim let out a soft chuckle and shook his head in amusement when he set down the boy’s backpack before taking off his own jacket.

“Something to drink?” he asked Ziva with a raised eyebrow and the Israeli nodded.

“Yes, please.” she told him before she went after their “nephew” to make sure he was indeed cleaning his teeth and not plotting another prank or something.

Almost an hour later, the sugar rush the boy had been on finally wore off and Ziva slipped from the guest bed. She placed the book she had used to read him to on the nightstand and ran her hand through the boy’s hair. Evan mumbled something sleepily, but his eyes were already closed and he turned away from her touch, snuggling into the pillow and giving a soft sigh.

“Sweet dreams.” Ziva muttered and reached out to kill the light before she carefully made her way through the darkened room.

Tim was sitting in the living room and she went over to him, snuggling up beside him and giving a soft sigh as she closed her eyes.

“That was fun.” Tim mumbled, reaching out and carefully pulling the scrunchie from Ziva’s hair before he ran his hand through her curls carefully, drawing something that sounded a lot like a purr from her.

“It was.” Ziva agreed, reaching out for his glass of wine and taking a small sip before she handed it over to him and got her own glass of water. Tim took a drink of the wine, too, before putting it down again. He’d have preferred to have some beer but had opened the bottle because he knew Ziva would like to have a glass. He’d get over it.

“Something happen on the Ferrish Wheel?” he asked her gently and Ziva turned her head at him in surprise. “You seemed… different, when you two got off. I don’t think Evan noticed, but…”

“He told me he loves me.” Ziva admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared down into her water, running her index finger over the rim of her glass. “The past three days, they…” she trailed off suddenly, closing her eyes and drawing a slow breath. Tim reached out and took the glass from her hands to place it on the couch table as she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, hoping in vain to keep the tears at bay.

“Aw, hey.” McGee mumbled and reached out to wrap his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Damn hormones.” Ziva groaned, which turned into a chuckle when Tim laughed softly.

“See, I told you that you’d be fine with him.”

“Well, that doesn’t change that we all know it’s just temporary and his parents will be back soon enough.” Ziva reminded him, wiping away the tears on her face before she reached for his hand and entwined their fingers, giving his a tight squeeze. “But you’re right, it might have helped a bit.”

“Only a bit?” Tim raised an eyebrow at her, a soft smile tugging on his lips as he reached out and slipped his hand under her shirt. His cold fingers made her jump lightly and Ziva gave him a brief glare before her features softened as she felt his thumb stroke over her skin. It had been so hard, not touching in front of Evan, because the boy had a tendency to share his observations with other people, and since the team had no idea about her and Tim being a couple (though Ziva did suspect that Gibbs knew perfectly well when McGee and her had started dating and when it had gotten serious and was just allowing them to keep it a secret because so far they had managed to not let it influence their work), having to explain them hugging and cuddling and kissing in front of the boy would have been a bit of a problem. Never mind that Ziva wasn’t sure if Breena and Jimmy would appreciate anyone doing that where their son could see it.

“Maybe more than a bit.” she admitted, looking into his green eyes. “Though I still mean what I said before. If you have any doubts-”

“None.” Tim quickly shook his head, leaning in for a soft kiss. “I love you, I’m happy with you, and I am looking forward to becoming a father.”

Ziva rested her forehead against his, taking a deep breath.

“Though that does leave us with the rather unfortunate combination of having to tell the team about us and the pregnancy at pretty much the same time.” she reminded him, worrying her lip with her teeth. “They’ll think-”

“I don’t care what they think.” Tim interrupted her. He pulled his hand back and reached up to stroke Ziva’s cheek. “We know that we’re not together because of the baby, and that’s what counts.”

“Aren’t we?” Ziva asked with a raised eyebrow. Her boyfriend recoiled slightly, his eyes widening in shock.

“Are we?” he responded, a guarded expression in his eyes all of a sudden.

“You mean to tell me that this didn’t influence your decision to continue dating me at all?”

Tim opened his mouth to protest before he hesitated, frowning lightly. Ziva merely nodded, moving out of his arms and scooting to the end of the couch to get some distance between them.

“Well, okay, maybe it did.” he allowed. “But it didn’t make me _continue_ to date you.” Tim quickly added. “It just, sped things up a little, I guess.”

“Sped things up.” Ziva repeated slowly.

“Yeah, I mean, we’ve been together for what, seven months? I wouldn’t have told you I love you if I didn’t feel it, but… I don’t know, I guess learning that I’m about to be a father, it made me examine my feelings earlier and more thoroughly than I’d usually do.” he shrugged.

His girlfriend furrowed her brows at him, biting her lip. She’d suspected being pregnant two weeks before she’d plucked up the courage to actually take a test, though the pink plus sign hadn’t been a surprise to her at that point. And when she’d had the confirmation, she’d immediately told him. Which had been three weeks ago, and Tim was right, things had been moving really fast since then. Two days after the news, he’d suddenly said that he loved her, and three days before today they’d found themselves discussing moving in with each other. It wasn’t something Ziva had considered before, hadn’t even thought about the possibility of that. But McGee was right, she supposed, the news had forced them to confront their feelings for each other, within themselves and out loud. And truthfully, if she hadn’t been that interested in him, Ziva would have broken up with him. There was no point in remaining in a relationship she didn’t believe in, not even ‘for the sake of the baby’. She’d grown up with parents that had tried that and failed horribly at it and in their line of work, Ziva had seen enough couples where she had thought that a break-up would have been better for the children involved than seeing their parents slowly destroying each other.

Maybe being forced to make these decisions was a good thing, though Ziva wasn’t sure that taking it slow wouldn’t have been more enjoyable. But at this point, ‘slow’ wasn’t that much of an option. They less than eight months to prepare for becoming parents to a tiny human being that would be depending on them for eighteen years at least, and the thought of that… it scared her to death. Though strangely enough, knowing that she would be doing it with Tim gave her some reassurance. Because he was the kind of guy that, no matter what happened between them, she could be sure that he wouldn’t run from his responsibility, that he’d still be a father to their child. And maybe that was the reason why she hadn’t decided on an abortion. She wanted a family, she wanted permanence, and even though this wasn’t exactly the way she had thought of getting it (in her head, children had been a distant possibility after getting married sometime in the future, she’d never have dreamed of doing it the other way around, if at all), Ziva found that the past week, she’d been as happy as she rarely had been in her life. It was strange, right when she had thought that her life would be falling apart now and she’d slowly be unraveling with the responsibility and all the decisions she had to make in the near future, things suddenly felt like they were falling into place.

“Ziva?”

Tim’s voice cut through her thoughts and she shook her head to clear it, focusing on him again.

“Look, I didn’t mean-”

“I love you.” she suddenly blurted. Her eyes widened in surprise at her own exclamation. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel that way, but the way the words had suddenly bubbled up inside of her…

“I love you, Tim.” she repeated slowly, shaking her head. “I do, I- I love you.” she said, unsure of what to do now. She’d never told him that before, and the way he was looking at her-

Tim suddenly reached out and pulled her into a searing kiss that left her breathless and a little dizzy from the intensity of it when they broke apart.

“I love you.” Ziva whispered against his lips, her mouth twitching into a grin as a laugh bubbled up inside of her.

“I love you, too. Both of you.” Tim smiled against her mouth before he kissed her again, pulling her into his lap. Maybe they were moving faster than they would have, maybe they were forced to make decisions they normally wouldn’t have thought about just yet under normal circumstances. But that didn’t change the fact that all of this, them being together, being a couple, and having a baby, that it felt _right_. And that, for the first time in what seemed to be years, Ziva was sure that right now, in this moment, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.


	7. taking it slow

> _Imagine your OTP kissing each other goodnight after a date in front of person B’s residence. It starts as one chaste kiss to two and then three and before they know it they’re pulling each other closer as the kiss gets deeper. Then person A stops and regretfully informs person B they should wait a little longer before they have sex for the first time… person B is disappointed but understands. They share one more kiss before person B goes inside._

Tim shook his head slighty, gathering all his strength to break the kiss and lean back. Ziva was looking at him, her eyes even darker than usual. He couldn’t stop touching her, his hands gently stroking her sides just below her breasts, causing her to shiver against him.

“Wanna come in?” she asked, her voice husky before she leaned up to brush her lips over his again. Tim sighed into the kiss and reached up to stroke her cheek.

“I really enjoyed tonight.” he told her instead of answering her question. Ziva furrowed her brows, tilting her head to the side.

“So did I.” she murmured, a soft smile stealing across her face. And it had been a wonderful night. If there was an upside to Tim being a hopeless romantic and wanting to get everything right, it was that the three dates they had had so far had been marvelous and he had really been trying to come up with something he thought she might enjoy. The movie tonight had been lovely, and so had the food at the Italian steakhouse he had taken her to afterwards. The perfect date, really. Just that she wasn’t quite in the mood to have it be over just yet. Though looking at his face now, she was wondering if she had misread his signals, the way he had leaned into her when they’d kissed goodbye and how quickly that had escalated until they were pretty much making out in the hallway of her apartment building.

“It’s just… we said we’d take it slow.” he reminded her, withdrawing his hands when Ziva sighed.

“I know what we said. I just thought… nevermind.” she shook her head in frustration, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” she told him, turning around and fishing for her keys in her purse before she felt Tim’s hands on her hips as he pulled her back against him.

Ziva closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall to the side when he pressed a soft kiss to her jaw.

“You know how much I want to, spend the night with you.” he muttered, resting his forehead against her shoulder briefly before Ziva turned back around, watching his face.

“Then I don’t understand why you-”

“I like where we are going, Ziva. But having sex, it’s a huge step. And I want to, to get this right. We said we take it slow, and yeah, for some people three dates is slow.” Tim told her, shaking his head. “I’m not one of those people, though.” he reminded her, making her swallow thickly with what he wasn’t saying. She was one of those people who wouldn’t have had that much of an issue with having sex with a guy on the first date, even. But this, this was different. She had agreed on them taking their time to get to know each other before taking that step, because she wanted him to know she wasn’t doing this to just have sex with someone. She cared about him, a lot actually, and it had taken her some time to admit that what she was feeling for him was going well beyond friendship.

“I just… I don’t think I’m ready for this, not just yet.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ziva swallowed again, reaching up to take his face into her hands and make him look at her.

“It’s okay.” she said, gently stroking his cheek. “I didn’t want to pressure you. If you need more time, then that’s fine. I’ll wait.”

Tim furrowed his brows, looking at her a little skeptical.

“You sure?” he asked her, causing Ziva to nod without hesitation.

“Positive.” she responded, smiling up at him. “Let’s just, treat this as me telling you that I am ready. So whenever you are, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Tim bit his lip before he nodded slowly, attempting a grin.

“Okay.” he agreed, searching her face. “Want a good-night kiss?” he smiled, lifting an eyebrow at her.

Ziva couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her at that.

“Yes, please.” she nodded, her eyes fluttering shut when he leaned in again. This time, it was her who broke the kiss. “Thank you, for the lovely evening.” she breathed, running her thumb over his bottom lip before going in for another chaste kiss. “Drive home safely.” she told him, waiting until Tim nodded.

“Yeah. Tea and bagels for breakfast?”

“It’s a date.” she responded with a smile. Tim hesitated briefly before he finally pulled back his hands from her hips and took a step back. He gave her an awkward wave before starting down the hallway to take the elevator, feeling Ziva’s eyes on his back the whole time until the metal doors closed behind him. Which was when he shook his head at himself, hitting his forehead.

Had he actually just turned down an invitation to spend the night with Ziva, naked, in her bed? Having sex until the wee hours of the morning?

“Oh boy.” Tim muttered to himself. He reached out and hit the button for the first floor, shaking his head at himself. It seemed like the first thing he would be doing upon getting home was to take a very long, very cold shower.


	8. incoming...

> _Imagine your OTP meeting for the first time because Persona A accidently throws a ball at Person B’s head._

Ziva raised her arm, checking the pulse meter she was wearing and furrowing her brows at the display. She shook her head, deciding that she could manage another two rounds at least. Since coming to the US a few weeks ago, she had been slacking a little with her workouts. Time to get back into old habits, habits that had served her well when she had still been a member of the Kidon.

The park was a few blocks from her new apartment, but she was able to walk there and go for runs. It was nice, being outside again. The air in the Israeli embassy could be stifling, especially now that tensions were starting to build again, and every staff member was on high alert.

Truth be told, she had no idea what had possessed her father to send her here. When she’d asked him, he had told her that he wanted his only living child save, but somehow, Ziva hadn’t fully believed him. Her sister had died years ago, and so had her brother, and up until now, her father had not been concerned with her job description. But she wasn’t about to question him, he was, after all, the director of Mossad. And if she was honest, then the new posting came as a blessing, too. She’d been looking for a way to break off this affair-turned-relationship with Michael for a while now, being an ocean apart had given her the perfect reasoning to finally get rid of him and be sure they wouldn’t just randomly cross paths.

She heard the call a split second before the neon-orange object entered her field of vision, her hand already up to block the path of whatever was flying straight at her face. When her fingers closed around soft plastic, she blinked in surprise, coming to a stop.

“I’m so sorry.”

The Israeli shook her head, holding out the Frisbee and drawing a deep breath.

“It’s okay.” she assured the man that had thrown the thing, apparently to entertain the German Shepherd that was jumping around them, barking excitedly. “No harm done.” she added with a smile when she saw how distressed he seemed.

“Yeah, but that was just because you have amazing reflexes.” he shook his head. With a roll of his eyes, he turned and sent the Frisbee flying again, his dog chasing after the toy immediately.

“Again, I’m really sorry.” he turned to her again, his face deeply apologetic. Ziva made a throwaway motion with her hand. It wasn’t the first time that one of the people at the park had accidentally sent something flying at her, at least here it was balls and Frisbees and other dog toys, as opposed to the knives and bullets she had previously been confronted with.

“It is fine, really.” she shook her head, putting her hands into her sides to catch her breath. Maybe she should have stopped when she’d seen her pulse earlier.

The man frowned at her briefly before bending down distractedly to gather the Frisbee from his dog, who had brought the toy back and was wagging its tail excitedly.

“Would you like a coffee?” he suddenly asked her and Ziva’s eyebrows shot up. The man’s ears turned red as he blushed. “Sorry. I meant, I would like to buy you one. As an apology.”

The Israeli shook her head in amusement.

“I don’t drink coffee.” she informed him, watching as his face fell.

“Oh.” he muttered, petting his dog as he tried to think of something else to say. He was kind of cute, though far from her usual type, and he seemed genuinely sorry about what had happened.

“But you may buy me a black tea.” she added with a smile, watching as his face lit up and he straightened, hooking a leash through his dog’s collar.

“There’s a vendor at the entrance, I think he has tea, too. Or we could go to a little café, it’s not far-”

“The vendor is fine.” Ziva shook her head, falling into step with him.

“I’m Tim, by the way. And this, this is Jethro.” he introduced himself, tugging on the dog’s leash to pull him back when Jethro wanted to investigate a passing stroller.

“Ziva.” she responded, offering her hand to him. When Tim shook it, her heart skipped at beat at the shot of electricity that went through her at the contact, and she suddenly found herself rather thankful for the existence of annoying brightly colored Frisbees.


	9. shush

> _Imagine your OTP with their first baby. S/he won’t stop crying no matter what person A does, but as soon as person A hands the baby to person B, s/he calms down._

“Sh, sh Ethan. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Tim muttered, lifting the baby up to cradle his head against his shoulder as he started to slowly sway from side to side, making shushing noises and hoping that the infant would finally calm down.

It had been one hell of a day. And night, probably, because after the 3am feeding, their son had refused to go back to sleep. At first he had been just wide awake and allowed them to lay him down, but then he had started to grow more and more upset until they reached the point where he wouldn’t even calm down when Ziva or Tim where holding him.

And as if that hadn’t been enough, Gibbs had needed Ziva at work, because he needed an interpreter for an interrogation, someone he could trust.

Tim had told her it was fine, he could handle the baby. It had been ten in the morning then, and he’d figured that she’d be back at three, the latest. Now it was past dinner time and Ziva had still not shown up, and Ethan had started working himself into quite a frenzy again.

He’d tried everything he had found on the internet and then called his mother for advice. A belly rub hadn’t helped, neither had undressing Ethan and letting him lie on his naked chest. Swadling him had just caused his screams to get even louder. The only time when he had settled for whimpers had been when he was being fed, but as soon as Tim took the empty bottle away, his son had started up again.

He hadn’t wanted to call Ziva and ask her to come home. If Gibbs needed her help, it had to be important, the man wouldn’t have asked otherwise. And he was pretty sure that his wife enjoyed the brief chance to be back on the team since Ethan’s birth six weeks ago. But Tim had to admit, the longer he was forced to listen to their baby crying, the closer he got to losing it himself. He had taken the past few weeks of work for some much-needed bonding with the little guy, but this hadn’t been what he had imagined, and he had no idea how Ziva was supposed get through more than one day like this.

“Come on, just gimme a break.” he groaned when Ethan hiccupped, losing his pacifier and a shrill shriek emanating from the infant. Just as he bent down, he heard the front door open and cheered internally.

“Hey, Ethan, listen to that!” he exclaimed with false cheer, gently bouncing the little boy. “Ima’s home. Look at that, Ima’s back.” he told the baby, kissing his temple as he went to greet his wife in the hallway. He saw Ziva flinch at the volume of their son’s crying.

“Hello, love.” she greeted her son, carefully stroking her hand over Ethan’s head before she gave her husband a kiss.

“Has he been like this the whole day?” she asked, taking off her jacket as Tim nodded.

“Yeah, more or less. He napped briefly, but then the idiot mailman rang the doorbell, and that was the end of that.” he sighed, changing his hold on their child. Ziva shook her head before reaching out, carefully taking the baby from her husband.

“Yes, I know.” she mumbled, kissing Ethan’s blotched face before wiping away his tears. “I know, I know.” she repeated, cradling his’s head against her sternum as she left the hallway. Tim followed her back to the living room, watching as Ziva sat down on the couch and rested the baby back on her legs as she started to quickly unbutton her blouse and unhook her bra. Ethan had started to calm down but picked right up where he had left off the second he was away from her mother’s chest.

“Just one second, sweetie.” Ziva informed him before she picked the boy up again, mindful of supporting the baby’s head. Tim blinked at the speed she got Ethan to latch on, the baby sucking greedily as Ziva relaxed back against the couch.

“If I had known that’s what it takes, I would have tried that hours ago.” Tim joked under his breath, making Ziva chuckle as she watched her son, shivering a little. Her husband grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her, careful not to accidentally touch the baby and distract him.

“You could have called.” Ziva whispered softly, casting a glance at him in time to see him shrug.

“I didn’t think there was much you could do, actually. I mean, he started it this morning when you were still around, and there was plenty of milk when it was time for his feeding after you’d left for the Navy Yard…” he trailed off, sitting down next to her. Ziva scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Was it hard for you?” she asked him softly, detaching Ethan and lifting her son up to get him to burp.

“Very.” Tim admitted, stroking over the baby’s cheek, quickly withdrawing his hand when Ethan’s eyes widened and he let out a belch. “How can something so small produce so much noise?” he asked, causing Ziva to chuckle as she shifted her hold on the baby again. “Wanna put him in the crib?”

“How successful do you think that would be?” his wife asked with a raised eyebrow, causing Tim to tilt his head.

“Fair point.” he allowed, shifting on the couch to find a more comfortable position as Ziva leaned back against him. He ran his hand through her hair carefully, watching their child as he looked around, small fists shaking and face halfway to his crying expression, though something seemed to be holding him back now.

“Shush, sweetie.” Ziva muttered softly, starting to hum under her breath after she rested the baby’s head against her chest, hoping that the vibration and the sound of her heartbeat would calm the infant.

“You still okay with me going back to work after this week?” Tim asked her, keeping his voice down and almost holding his breath when Ethan’s eyes started drooping.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ziva wondered, casting a quick glance at him. “One of us has to work, Tim. It will be fine, he’ll get used to it.” she added when she saw his face.

“I know, it’s just… today was really bad, and I hate putting you in this position day after day…” he trailed off, reaching out and carefully stroking the baby’s head. Ethan let out what sounded a lot like a sigh, relaxing further into his mother.

“He just had a bad day. We all do, once in a while.” Ziva replied, tilting her head to press a soft kiss to her husband’s jaw. “And when he really drives me nuts during the day, just think that you will come home after work and get to spend a lot of time with a cranky infant while I take some time to myself.” she added with a grin. Tim let out a soft chuckle at that as he shook his head.

“Yeah, okay.” he muttered, planting a kiss to her temple. “Did I tell you how much I love you today?” he asked her softly after a few minutes where they both watched their son sleep.

“Yes, but feel free to remind me of it often.” Ziva whispered, running her index finger over one of Ethan’s clenched fists. “It’s funny; when I was younger I never thought that I might want this one day. You know, have a husband and a child, a family, and a permanent home…” she trailed off as her son closed his fist around her finger instinctively. “But now I do. I have a wonderful husband, and an amazing son, and I love you both so much. And I wouldn’t trade a single second of our lives.”

“Me, neither.” Tim replied, his hold on her tightening as Ziva smiled at him before kissing him again.

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if Ethan suddenly changes sex. I started originally writing him as a girl before changing my mind during editing. So if I missed an instance, I'm sorry and feel free to tell me so I can fix it.


	10. past come back to haunt you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this needs a big fat **trigger warning for past sexual abuse/rape**. the incident itself is not described, but what tim does that sets off the flashback is mentioned.

 

> _Imagine your OTP are in the middle of having sex, when Person A is suddenly reminded of some trauma in their past by some mannerism of Person B. Person A bursts into tears - and Person B stops immediately to cuddle and console them._

They’d had sex before. Though it had been different then, slow and gentle and romantic, and Tim had been careful with the way he was touching her, always waiting for Ziva to indicate what he was doing was okay, that she liked it and that he was allowed to continue.

When they started getting serious, Ziva had opened up about what had happened in Somalia. He knew she hadn’t told him everything, had kept some things to herself that she thought he was better of not knowing. But even early on, she’d been clear that he couldn’t touch her without permission, and while Tim would have never dreamed of doing that, it had confirmed his suspicions of what had went down in the months she’d been in the hands of those terrorists.

They’d started slowly, with harmless touches on her hands and arms and shoulders and moves from there. It had been weird, but as she’d started trusting him more, they regular questions of “May I stroke your cheek?” had fallen away and instead, they’d switched to Ziva telling him when she didn’t want him to touch her.

So yeah, they’d had sex. Made love, before, and it had been a little tense and awkward, maybe, especially the first time, because both him and Ziva had been worried about her flashing back to something that had happened that summer. It hadn’t happened the first time, nor the second or third. And maybe that’s what made him grow careless, made them both forget for a few seconds. Which proved too long.

It was Ziva who initiated it. Who’d started kissing him heatedly and then gone straight for the zipper of his jeans, who’d moaned into his mouth and ripped his shirt open. He’d taken his lead from her and pulled her shirt off before opening the belt of her cargo pants, and everything had been fine. They’d made it to the bedroom, stumbling and fumbling and she’d landed on her back on the bed, pulling Tim with her. He’d had enough presence of mind to catch himself and not land on her with his full weight, and when he’d looked at her, her eyes had been dark with arousal and she’d been grinning at him. But when he’d kissed her stomach on his way to pull her pants off, Ziva had suddenly tensed and pulled him back by his hair, making Tim hiss in pain at the rough treatment. He’d had his mouth open to ask her to go a bit more gentle until he’d realized she’d started trembling and the vacant expression in her eyes had registered with him. He immediately pulled back, separating their bodies.

“Shit,” Tim muttered, pulling at his hair briefly before he reached out to touch Ziva’s wrist. “Ziva, it’s me, Tim,” he said, trying to remember the wording that she’d drilled into him. “You’re with me, we’re in your bedroom, you’re safe. It’s just me, just Tim, we’re alone in your apartment, you’re safe with me, but I need you to look at me.”

It took a few repeats of that statement until Ziva blinked, slowly turning her head and staring down at his hand holding her wrist briefly before she looked at him, tears swimming in her eyes. He wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek, to hug her and hold her close and tell her it was okay, that he was sorry and that he loved her, but he bit his tongue and swallowed.

“Just us, just you and me. It’s just me, just Tim. You’re at home, in your bedroom,” he muttered instead. “Do you want me to let go of you?” he asked her, slowly removing his hand when Ziva nodded, careful to make no sudden movements.

“I’m going to get up and get you some water and the blanket from the living room. Is that okay?”

Ziva shook her head, reaching up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye as she slowly sat up. Tim started reaching out for her before he stopped himself and pulled back his hand. He was tempted to ask her what she wanted, but he knew that he wouldn’t get an answer to that.

“Wanna go sit in the living room?”

“Couch,” Ziva muttered, getting up and slowly leaving the bedroom. Tim went after her, making sure she was settled on the couch, wrapped in the afghan and the TV on at a low volume setting before he went to get her a glass of water and put his jacket on on the way. He wouldn’t have been able to close his shirt, thanks to Ziva’s rough treatment of it earlier, when she’d sent the buttons flying, and he didn’t have any spare clothing up in her apartment. In her state, he really didn’t want to leave her to go down and get the bag from his car.

“It’s just water,” he told her when he came back, handing her the glass and watching how badly her hand was shaking. He crouched down on front of the other end of the couch. “Can I get you anything else?”

“My PJs?” Ziva asked him, her dark eyes flickering over his face before she looked away again. “The soft ones Abby gave me,” she clarified and Tim nodded as he rose.

“I’m just in your bedroom, you can call me anytime,” he told her before he quickly went in search of her favorite PJs. He’d seen her wear them a few times before, and she’d explained how the soft material on her skin usually helped ground her back in the present.

When he came back, he placed them on the couch table before turning around and covering his eyes, waiting for Ziva to get changed.

“You can look,” she whispered after a few moments, but when he turned back around, she was curled up in a corner of the couch, her knees drawn up and the afghan around her shoulders. Tim bit back a sigh and motioned to the end of the couch.

“Is it okay if I sit there?”

Unsurprisingly, Ziva hesitated before she shook her head.

“Armchair,” she replied, muting the TV, though she kept watching the images flicker across the screen. Tim wasn’t sure if she was seeing them, because her eyes still got a rather vacant expression in them and it felt more like she was staring off into space.

“Anything else you need me to do?” he asked her, watching her. Ziva closed her eyes before she reached up to press her hand over her mouth. “Okay, hey, Ziva,” Tim started, reaching for her out of reflex. “It’s okay, I’m here. Don’t go back. Talk to me, please. You can tell me anything. What do you want?”

“I want,” she started, letting out a ragged breath, “you to hold me, but I don’t want anyone to touch me right now, because I can, I can still feel _him_ …” she cut herself off with a sharp shake of her head. Tim bit his lip, blinking rapidly to try to keep from starting to cry.

“I could hold your hand?” he suggested, the only thing he could think of that he was almost certain would not set off another flashback. It was so little, compared to the possible comfort of an actual embrace, of hugging her, but much like Ziva, he was afraid that any further contact would sent her into another flashback.

Ziva eyed him before she gave a nod, sniffling as she moved her legs. Tim sat down at the end of the couch, resting his hand on the back of the sofa, palm up so she could place her hand in it. It took a lot of restraint not to immediately close his fingers when Ziva placed her hand in his, but he knew she’d just feel trapped, so he merely moved them a little to touch the back of her hand. Much to his surprise, Ziva entwined their fingers and rested her head against the couch, closing her eyes when he started to stroke his thumb over the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a while. Tim shook his head, though she couldn’t see it.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I think I pulled your hair,” Ziva furrowed her brows, looking at him again, and Tim shrugged.

“It’s okay, it didn’t hurt,” he told her, but Ziva narrowed her eyes at him.

“Do not lie to me, Timothy,” she demanded before drawing a slow breath. “I did not know I was hurting you in that moment, but that does not change-” she cut herself of, clenching her eyes shut at the same time she gave his hand a hard squeeze. “ _It felt so real_.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim apologized, stopping himself from any further comment he wanted to make. Telling Ziva that he wouldn’t have done it if he’d suspected it would cause a flashback wouldn’t help her feel better. They needed to concentrate on helping her, not on calming his raging guilt.

Again, she gave his hand a squeeze, slowly starting to relax. He watched her reach up with her free hand again, wiping away another tear.

“I just want to be able to touch you. To not have to be afraid. To not have to remember,” she muttered, drawing a slow breath. “And I’m afraid that, that this will make you reconsider.”

Tim’s eyes widened and he quickly shook his head.

“No,” he protested, gently squeezing Ziva’s hand. “I won’t. You told me what was going on, I knew what I was getting myself into-”

“Did you?” she interrupted him, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

“And I haven’t regretted it for one second,” he continued, ignoring her question. “The only thing I do regret is hurting you, even if it was accidental.”

Zive blinked, inclining her head. She drew a slow breath before she looked at him again.

“Would you mind staying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know we had planned on tonight going differently, but I, I would, like for you to stay.”

“I would like that very much,” Tim nodded, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze. He knew he’d spend the night on the couch, straining his ears to hear if Ziva was okay or if she might be having a nightmare.

They continued to talk softly, mostly about work and their friends, about how Ducky had been wearing the funny print bowtie Amira had given him for Thanksgiving, and how Tony had been peed on by the puppy they’d found at their last crime scene, until Tim saw Ziva beginning to struggle to stay awake.

“Hey,” he muttered softly, getting up from the couch slowly, “time for bed.”

Ziva’s eyes widened and he glimpsed the terror in them before she swallowed and nodded, drawing a slow breath. He followed her to the bedroom, waiting by the door as she found him a spare blanket and pillow.

“If you need anything, I’m just down the hall,” he told her, stopping himself from leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Ziva nodded, swallowing again.

“Leave the light on in the hallway?” she asked him and Tim nodded before he forced himself to turn around and return to the living room, making up the couch and lying down. He stared at the ceiling for a while, forcing himself to lie still and not toss around as he wanted to, aware that Ziva would be able to hear it from the bedroom. At some point, he fell into a restless sleep and woke up with a start around half past six in the morning to find Ziva curled up in the armchair, sleeping soundly. He rubbed a hand over his eyes before settling back down, vowing to offer her a massage if she was okay with him touching her again once she woke up, because that position she was in did not look at all comfortable to him.

_fin._


	11. a shared cup of tea

> _Imagine your OTP drinking tea and watching the sunrise._

Ziva rested her chin on her drawn up knee and closed her eyes as she inhaled the air. The morning hours, just minutes before sunrise were the ones she liked best. A few moments when the night had cooled everything down and you could finally fall asleep after a night of tossing and turning and dozing off in the heat that was summer in Israel.

She heard the sliding glass door to the balcony open and Tim stepped out. He sat down at the table, setting down two mugs with steaming liquid. Ziva raised an eyebrow at him before reaching out and carefully lifting hers, inhaling the scent of the tea, a soft smile playing on her lips before she blew over the hot liquid and took a careful sip.

Tim had leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, causing her to shake her head at him before she mimicked his position. It didn’t take long, the sky was already brightening, and soon the sun was beginning to rise. Ziva felt the first rays of sunlight on her face, her mouth tugging into a content smile.

“It’s beautiful.” Tim muttered, keeping his voice down to not ruin the moment.

“It is. Though the view from the beach is even more breathtaking.” Ziva allowed, taking another sip of the tea. “Thank you.” she smiled at him, cradling the mug close. There were few things she enjoyed as much as the sunrise over Haifa and jasmine tea, and having them both combined-

The baby monitor coming to life on the table made them both jump, though Ziva managed to not spill any of the tea on herself as Tim let out a groan.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face before he reached out to shut the device off. Ziva shook her head and set the mug down, already on her feet, but when she made to return inside, she felt Tim’s fingers close around her wrist and he tugged her back.

“It’s okay, I’ll go.” he told her. Ziva hesitated before leaning down and brushing her lips over his.

“Toda raba.” she muttered, feeling him brush her curls behind her ear. She’d gotten up earlier when Adam had started crying, the baby’s schedule thoroughly messed up from the change of time zone, and Ziva had the suspicion that her eleven months old didn’t appreciate the temperatures that much, either. But he had been fed and she’d changed his diaper, so whatever it was, she was sure that Tim would be able to deal with it just fine.

“I love you.” her husband replied before going inside to check on their son. He left the door open this time, allowing some cool air to get inside and Ziva leaned against the railing of the balcony, watching the new day begin. It didn’t take long before she was joined by her two favorite men, Adam hiccoughing, his face blotched.

“Ah, little man.” Ziva muttered, taking him from Tim when their son reached for her. She kissed his temple and wiped a stray tear away from his face. “Look, Adam.” she gently said, bouncing him a little as she turned to face the sunrise again. “Say good morning to Israel.” she whispered, planting a kiss to his temple. Adam hid his face in her neck, fingers clutching at her shirt.

“No sense for beauty.” Tim joked, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing Ziva’s neck after pulling her braid out of the way. She rolled her eyes at him, cradling their son’s head.

“What do you say about going to the beach today?” she asked her son. “We’ll have breakfast and get outside, have a nice lunch and then come back for your nap. Do you want to see the ocean?”

Adam didn’t react and when Ziva craned her neck as Tim chuckled, she couldn’t help but laugh softly at their child, who had promptly fallen back asleep on her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get inside and cuddle for a bit, maybe catch a bit more sleep.” her husband said, holding open the door for Ziva to step back inside before he followed her.

_fin._


	12. time of your life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got rather long, but I didn't want to split it into two chapters and break with the "one prompt per chapter" routine.

> _Imagine your OTP meeting as college roommates. Person A has already inhabited the room for some time, and it’s quite disorganized. Person B walks in for the first time (unannounced) and can’t help but smile when they see Person B blushing in embarrassment of the mess, saying, “I’m sorry, I’d hoped to have it ready by the time you arrived!”_

Tim looked down at the note in his hand, furrowing his brows.

“Hey,” he started, turning towards one of the students that passed him in the hallway, but he didn’t manage to catch his attention. Nor did it work with the next one, or the one after that, until one of the older students wearing a badge that identified him as an advisor took pity on him and explained that he was on the wrong floor.

It took him another ten minutes to find his room once he had dragged his luggage up to the fourth floor (because who needed a working elevator on moving day, well, apparently not the residents in this dormitory). By the time he turned the key in the lock, he was ready to just collapse onto his bed. A plan that was thoroughly thwarted by the state he found the room to be in.

Clothes were littering the floor, random books and papers mingling with them. Though it seemed like the chaos concentrated on one half of the room.

“Oh, sorry.”

Tim looked up and forced himself to shut his mouth as he looked at the guy standing in the room, only clad in a pair of jeans.

“I know, it looks bad, but we were just cleaning up. I thought you were coming next week…” he trailed off, motioning to a girl (A GIRL! IN A ROOM IN AN ALL BOYS DORMITORY!) that gave a wave of her hand in greeting before she returned to plucking clothes from one of the beds and throwing them on the other.

“I’m Malachi, by the way.” Tim’s roommate introduced himself, holding out his hand. He almost dropped his bag as Tim shifted its weight and shook the offered hand.

“Timothy McGee.” he muttered, flinching.

“And this is Zee.” Malachi motioned towards the other occupant of the room (A GIRL!), who snapped at Malachi in a foreign language, which only caused the guy to let out a laugh, muffled by the shirt she threw at his head.

“My name is Ziva. And we will clean this up.” Ziva turned to him, stepping back from the bed and allowing Tim to drop his luggage onto it before he flopped down on it himself.

“How come you…” Tim started, pausing as he wondered how to best phrase the question. Because suddenly, “have been here long enough to turn this room into the biggest mess I have ever seen” did not sound so appealing, especially given that he’d have to share a room with this dude for the next few semesters. And not to mention, the guy looked like he came from a modelling catalogue. The last people Tim had seen with muscles like Malachi had not hesitated to use said muscles to beat him up. He’d rather not have further performances of that, thank you very much.

“Have absolutely no sense of how to clean up after yourself?” Ziva finished for him, giving Malachi another look as she kicked a book over the floor. The guy only shrugged.

“Never really got the hang of it.” he told Tim, reaching up to rub his neck almost sheepishly. He noticed his new roomate staring at the female in the room, lifting an eyebrow. “She’s not bothering you, is she?”

Tim quickly shook his head.

“No!” he declared, drawing a laugh from both of them. Maybe he had been a little too eager there.

“It’s my fault,” Ziva told him, though the look she gave Malachi indicated that that was not entirely the truth. “My own roommate got on my nerves. I am not the biggest fan of people talking in German.”

Tim furrowed his brows in confusion, but Ziva did not think it necessary to elaborate.

“How about Ziva and I go get all of us something for dinner?” Malachi suggested. “My treat, as compensation for the mess. You’d have a bit of time to yourself, to take a deep breath.”

Tim swallowed thickly before nodding.

“Yeah, that, that sounds good.” he agreed, watching as Ziva got her jacket before the two left the room. He wasn’t entirely sure, but Tim could have sworn he saw them hold hands briefly before Malachi closed the door.

* * *

 

“Am I annoying you?”

Tim looked up from his book, shaking his head. Truth be told, he’d almost forgotten that Ziva was in the room with him.

“No.” he told her, returning to his study material, only to find her suddenly leaning against his desk. He tried to ignore her, but her close proximity suddenly made it hard for him to concentrate.

“How about now?”

Exasperated, he looked up, the smile he had already heard in her voice firmly on her lips.

“What do you want?” he asked her. Ziva grew serious again as she crossed her arms.

“This girl that you were talking to earlier…” she started, making him furrow his brows.

“Abby?”

“If she is the Goth that almost took out my eye, then yes.” Ziva shrugged and Tim felt himself blushing when he remembered the incident at lunch, where Abby had gesticulated with her fork and almost stabbed Ziva in the face with it. She hadn’t realized someone had sat down next to her, far too absorbed in the recount of her chemical experiment, but Tim had rarely seen Ziva as… unamused as she had been in that moment. And then he had remembered the Israeli culture lessons he had received from Malachi, wherein the guy had informed him to never mess with Israeli women because more likely than not, they had served in the IDF and knew how to shoot.

“What about her?” he asked Ziva, wondering why she was looking at him so intently.

“You like her.” the Israeli said, and Tim felt his face grow even hotter.

“No, she’s, we’re just friends..” he shook his head. “Like you and Malachi are.”

Ziva blinked at him before she erupted into laughter so hard she almost doubled over, leaving Tim to stare at her, completely lost.

“I am sorry,” she finally apologized when she took a deep breath, having started to calm down. Her dark eyes were sparkling as she tilted her head at Tim. “And maybe I underestimated his ability to shut up, but… you really have no idea?”

“What?”

“Malachi and I are… what do you call it? Friends with advantages?”

“Benefits.” Tim corrected her automatically before his eyes widened. “WHAT?”

Ziva waved her hand in a throw-away motion as she shook her head.

“We’ve dated, it didn’t work out, we figured we work better as friends, but occasionally, one might… relapse.” she explained, leaning closer. “But back to this Abby person.”

“Before you ask, no, we are not friends with benefits.” Tim shook his head, squirming under Ziva’s intense look.

“But you would like to be.” she observed. “I have seen the way you are looking at her, and for the record, Abby is not the first woman you have been looking at.”

“Why are we even having this conversation? Didn’t you say you had studying to do?” At least that had been Ziva’s pretense to get him to let her stay when Malachi had left for track practise. Apparently, Ziva’s roommate had made friends and they hung out in their room, raising the noise to a level that made it impossible for the Israeli to concentrate. At least that’s what she told him, now Tim was getting the sneaking suspicion that the Israeli had merely been looking for a way to catch him alone to question him about his private life.

“I am studying you. Or the American Male, if you’d prefer.”

“You never mentioned taking anthropology or sociology courses.”

Ziva’s lips tugged upward and she shook her head in amusement while Tim congratulated himself to that quip.

“I have noticed, in the past, that you seem to… avoid, talking to women.”

Tim let out a sigh.

“Yeah, I’m kinda bad at that.” he confessed.

“You do fine when talking to me.”

“You’re different.” he responded, eyes widening as Ziva’s narrowed.

“What exactly does that mean?” she asked him, crossing her arms again as Tim squirmed in his seat. Thankfully, he was saved by the door opening and Malachi walking in before he dropped to the floor with a melodramatic groan.

“This conversation is not over.” Ziva told him before turning to Malachi. “If you are done dying, might I remind you that you have exactly twenty minutes to shower and change before we have to leave for this exchange student event.”

“You can go alone.”

“The mandatory exchange student event.” Ziva corrected herself. The heap on the floor let out another groan before Malachi stuck out his arm.

“I am not touching you, you’re sweating like a pig and smelling like one, too.” she shook her head, grabbing her book off Malachi’s bed and returning to study Spanish grammar, leaving Malachi to get up slowly before he grabbed a towel and shower gel and headed down the hallway to the washrooms.

“Why did he join the track team when he comes home like that after every meeting?” Tim asked as he got up to close the door after his roommate.

“Some people are masochists.” Ziva shrugged, making him tilt his head at her as he wondered what Ziva might look like after one of her workouts.

* * *

Tim held out a pack of kleenex to her. Ziva let out a soft sniffle before she wordlessly took the pack and then blew her nose.

He’d been on his way to one of his programming classes when he’d spotted her sitting under a tree, turned away from the building. Her arms had been resting on her drawn-up knees and while he hadn’t been able to seen her hidden face, he’d noticed the shaking shoulders. He’d seen Sarah cry often enough to recognize the sight.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked her softly. Ziva shook her head.

“No.” she told him, blowing her nose again before she wiped her hand over her face in an attempt to remove the tear stains. “He’s an asshole.” she suddenly added, causing Tim’s eyes to widen.

“Malachi?” he asked stupidly. He hadn’t noticed anything weird between the two friends the past few days, and he had never ever seen Ziva cry before. It struck him as odd that Malachi might be the cause. Whenever they upset each other in any way, it tended to end in shouted Hebrew (most of which he suspected to be profanities, but he had never asked) and slamming doors and loaded silences for a day or two after.

“No.” Ziva shook her head, grabbing a new tissue. She hesitated briefly before she shredded it in a sudden burst of anger. Okay, that he had seen before. Angry Ziva was kind of familiar territory.

“Who?” he asked, almost ready to kick the ass of whoever had hurt her. As if that wasn’t a completely laughable idea.

“My brother.” she told him, blinking. “He promised he’d visit and that we’d fly back to Israel together, over the holidays. But now he changed his plans and he’s going to France.”

“Well, maybe you can fly back with Malachi.”

Ziva turned her head, giving Tim a blank look.

“It’s Hanukkah, McGee.” she informed him. “Would you invite yourself to a friend’s house and family over Christmas?”

Tim shook his head. No, he wouldn’t do that.

“See.” Ziva nodded, leaning back against the tree, her head hitting the bark hard. “Asshole.” she muttered under her breath, drawing a soft laugh from Tim.

“Hey, wanna hear something that’ll cheer you up?” he asked her. Ziva raised her eyebrow at him and Tim took a slow breath. “Abby dumped me.”

The Israeli blinked at him.

“Why would that cheer me up?”

Tim gave a helpless shrug.

“Misery loves company?” he tried.

“I take no joy from your failed relationship, McGee.” Ziva shook her head, giving him a sympathetic look.

“I thought you might. Considering that she basically told me that I was clingy. And at the end of the conversation, she hinted that, if I ever wanted to try this friends with benefits thing, she’d totally be down for that. But like, she’s suffocating and I need to slow it down and this is just not what she’s looking for right now.”

When he looked back at her, he found that Ziva’s lips had indeed tugged upwards into the hint of a smile as he’d attempted to imitate his former girlfriend.

“I’m sorry.” she offered, making him shrug.

“Yeah, well, it’s okay, I guess.” he frowned, shifting on the hard ground. “Have you ever celebrated Thanksgiving?” he asked her suddenly, causing Ziva to lift her eyebrows before she slowly shook her head. “Then I have a solution for your problem. You remain in the US and come with me. My grandma makes the best turkey ever, it’s really delicious.”

“Tim, I can’t-”

“Please.” he asked her, swallowing. “It’s the first Thanksgiving since my parents split. My mother won’t mind, she told me I could ask Abby to come if I wanted to. And my sister will probably bring one of her stupid friends along. Come on, you’ll like it, I promise.”

Ziva opened her mouth, hesitating before she gave a nod. “Okay.” she agreed, making him smile at her.

* * *

Tim flexed his hands on the steering wheel as he cast another look at Ziva in the passenger seat. She’d grown strangely quiet over the past few hours. Ever since he’d come down from his room to find her having tea with his grandmother.

“So, what’s your impression of Thanksgiving?” he asked her, unable to stand the silence any longer.

“Your family is really nice.” she told him, worrying her lip before she sighed. “Did you tell your grandmother that I am your girlfriend?” she asked him. Tim whipped his head around, accidentally swerving the car.

“Sorry.” he muttered an apology, his eyes back on the road. “No, of course I didn’t. Why, did she say I had?” he asked, feeling his face grow hot again.

Ziva opened her mouth before she shook her head.

“No, not exactly. She just said something that made me think she had gotten a wrong impression.”

“Why, what did she say?” Tim asked, but his friend shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter. I was just, confused. And a little concerned, that you had somehow gotten the wrong idea of the nature of our friendship.”

“I haven’t.” he assured her. “Believe me, I am more than aware of the boundaries.” he muttered to himself as he shifted gears in an attempt to get back to college faster.

He felt Ziva’s eyes on him, but he had grown accustomed to it over the past few months and managed to resist the urge to squirm. She had a way of downright staring at people that was a little unsettling. He’d noticed that Malachi tended to do it, too. Maybe it was an Army service sort of thing.

“I am… fond of you, as a friend, McGee.” Ziva told him, causing Tim to nod.

“Likewise.” he said, giving her a brief look and smile. It had been really nice, to have her around the past few days. She distracted him from the fact that he hadn’t spoken to his father in months, that this was the first big family holiday where he wasn’t around not because he had work but because his parents had split. And Ziva had gotten along great with his sister, too. Apparently, she had a younger sister herself, who was around Sarah’s age, and it had showed in her interactions with Tim’s sister.

His mother had been a little surprised when he’d shown up with Ziva instead of Abby, but after he’d explained why he had invited the Israeli, she’d understood. Thankfully, Ziva was not that interested in keeping kosher, something Tim was sure had a lot more to do with the limited choices at school than with her personal beliefs. Or maybe not. He had never asked her or Malachi about their religion or if they actually cared about following the dietary restrictions.

So yeah, the past few days had been fun, and it had been great to spend time with Ziva, away from school. She was a nice person and a great friend, and Tim was really glad that he’d ended up with Malachi as his roommate, because he was sure their paths would have never have crossed otherwise.

* * *

He remembered the first time there was a suicide bombing in Israel since he met Malachi and Ziva. They had been strangely quiet, but it hadn’t been a natural quietness that Tim knew from other people. The two had seemed to be immensely angry and barely able to contain their anger and frustration. He’d noticed how incredibly short their fuses got, and how they would suddenly lash out verbally at anyone who might remotely annoy them or upset either one of them. Tim had been on the receiving end of a few verbal spats himself, and it had taken him a few to learn to just take it. Both Malachi and Ziva usually came and apologized for their behavior once they could think clearly again, and it was okay to him. He had moments when he just wanted to yell at the world himself, too. It wasn’t anything personal.

But nothing would have prepared him for a sobbing Ziva, anguished screams muffled by Malachi’s shoulder when Tim returned from a particularly boring lecture one spring afternoon. And in the year he’d known them now, Tim had never seen his roommate as distraught, had never seen Malachi cry, but now there were tears on his face as he tried to console Ziva.

It took her three hours until she’d screamed herself hoarse and her body finally took mercy on her, allowing Ziva to fall into a fitful sleep.

There’d been another bombing, in Tel Aviv. As they always did, the two had called their families. Malachi hadn’t had any trouble reaching his, relieved to hear that his cousin that studied in the city had been on a field trip with his class, well out of harm’s way. But Ziva’s sister had not answered the house phone, and then she hadn’t been able to reach her father, either.

Ziva’s younger sister was dead. Tim hadn’t even known her name prior to this day, but now he was sure he’d never be able to forget it. Nor would he ever forget the sound of Ziva’s screams, something that went straight to his heart and made his hair stand on end.

Israel had always been so far away to him, and while the previous bombings and terrorist attacks had shown how dangerous the country could be, Tim was ashamed to admit he hadn’t fully grasped the danger his friend’s family and friends were in, hadn’t really understood their constant worry.

Ziva’s father had booked her a seat on a flight to Israel. It struck Tim as suicidal, to go to a country that had just seen such a tragic event. To return to a place where someone you loved just died. Malachi told him that she needed to go, to say goodbye and mourn her sister. That Ziva needed her family now. But all Tim wanted was to curl up next to her, wrap her arms around her and never ever let her go again, as if he could protect her from any further pain. The thought of losing Sarah, of his own sister dieing, it made his gut churn. He’d had a sister for almost as long as he could remember. If anything ever happened to her, Tim was sure he’d go crazy, that he wouldn’t manage to survive it. And now that had become a reality for Ziva.

* * *

He was pretty surprised when he came back from Spring Break and found her sitting in front of the door of their room. Last he had heard, she was not going to come back, having missed weeks of classes with almost no chance of catching up and getting credits for her courses.

Instead, it was Malachi who wouldn’t return. Ziva was tight-lipped about it, something about a job offer that had come unexpectedly and he hadn’t wanted to miss that opportunity.

Why she was back? “Because Israel felt like slowly being suffocated.”

Ziva told him she’d needed to get away from the memories. She’d been to Haifa, the town where her sister and her had spent their summers as children, when their parents had still been together and they’d been a family, before her mother’s death a few years ago. She seemed sad and Tim saw her reach up to wipe away a tear from the corner of her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking, but he never mentioned it.

She slept in his room. His new roommate stared at them curled up on Tim’s bed, Ziva under the blankets and Tim lying above them. When Rick cleared his throat and gave a pointed look at the alarm on his nightstand, Tim glared at him before he reached over and turned off the light.

It continued for two weeks. Until Rick finally couldn’t stand Ziva’s silent appearances in the middle of the night any more, couldn’t stand being woken up in the middle of the night by her soft crying and Tim’s attempts to comfort her.

They both got written up, and for Ziva, there was a mandatory session with the Mental Health Counselling Team, one that made her glare at Rick the next time she saw him, until the younger student grew so uncomfortable under her gaze that he almost ran from the library.

* * *

She kissed him exactly twenty-eight minutes into the extra credit lecture he had talked her into attending, in hopes of perhaps getting her a passing grade in one of her seminars.

Some weird old dude was going on about modern literature and Ziva had been drumming onto her notepad with her pencil and when Tim told her to stop she’d just increased the frequency of her tapping. So naturally, he’d just reached over and snatched the pencil from her and leaned back in his seat, thoroughly smug about the whole thing. And then Ziva had stared at him in surprise before she’d leaned over and just kissed him. And once the initial shock wore off, he’d kissed her back.

They snuck from the room, their habit of taking seats on the last row helping in their escape. As he turned to close the door behind them, Tim’s eyes met Abby’s and he saw her glare at him, and for once, he didn’t care the slightest bit.

It was so embarrassing to admit. That he’d had girlfriends before and despite Abby’s best attempts, he was clumsy and unsure of what he was doing, but then again, he was pretty sure he’d have acted like that if he’d had sex with half the female population, because this was Ziva. Gorgeous, wonderful Ziva. The girl he hadn’t thought would ever notice him as a more than the goofy roommate of her boyfriend. Oh God, Ziva, who had had sex with Malachi, who looked so much better shirtless than Tim probably ever would-

Ziva didn’t laugh. She smiled, grinned, really, and it made him even more nervous, until he realized that it just took an especially long and intense kiss to wipe that smug look off her face and make her mutter his name. His name, she actually breathed “Timothy” into his mouth. Not Malachi’s, not anyone else’s. She knew exactly who she was kissing, who she was undressing and letting touch her, and from what he could tell, she seemed more than okay with it.

Rick stuck his head in at some point during the night. Tim remembered the light from the open door hitting him in the face and looking up to see the frozen figure of his roommate halfway through the door. And then Ziva turned around in his arms and mumbled something in half-sleep and the door closed and they were alone again.

* * *

When he woke up, Ziva was gone. He was still naked below the covers, but the bed was empty otherwise, and so was the room. There was no trace of her having been there, except the slight hint of jasmine on his pillow where she’d slept.

He thought that she’d never talk to him again. Or give him the “you’re a nice guy, but” speech. He’d heard so many variations of that, he knew them all by heart by now. He’d been prepared for pretty much anything when he saw her in the cafeteria at lunch. Everything, except for Ziva to look up when he cleared his throat as he stood at her table, clutching his tray, and for her to smile at him. And then, when he’d just started to relax and sat down, she’d leaned over and kissed him. On the lips. In a room full of other people who weren’t paying attention to a lecture in progress.

He did get the “you’re a nice guy” speech, but in a variation he hadn’t heard before. One he hoped would make him forget all the others. Because for a change, there was no “as a friend” after the “I like you”, because while Ziva did apologize and said she had no idea what had gotten into her the day before, she made it perfectly clear that she did not regret it the least, and that whatever happened now was up to him. That she liked his friendship, but she did want something more, if he was willing to give that. And yes, perhaps that did have to do with the still raw wound that was the loss of her sister, but she had realized before that there was something she was feeling when they were together that definitely was not mere friendship. She’d just chosen to ignore it, because there had been Malachi and school and more importantly, Abby. Who Tim might have claimed to be over, but still looked at like some lovesick puppy, and when the Goth ignored him, he tended to get the look of a child that had just learned that someone had run over their dog.

That made him blush ten shades of red. And he hated to admit it, but he knew that Ziva was right about it. He’d gotten fixated on Abby and really acted like some lovesick fool when it came to her. Until Ziva came back, then most of his time had been spent with her, studying, cramming for extra tests and helping her catch up on her coursework and trying to be there for her no matter the time and place. And the thought had crossed his mind that the night before might have just been an extension of that, of him wanting to be there for her in any way she needed. But the truth was, she’d made his heart flutter in his chest since the first time he’d met her, only then he’d thought she’d been the girlfriend of his roommate, and then when that turned out to be wrong, he’d already decided on shoving his feelings into a drawer and locking it and throwing away the key. But Ziva had taken an axe to the entire dresser and smashed it to pieces and now he was left standing in that mess, unsure how to proceed, when she offered him her hand. And he gladly took it.

* * *

He took her to see his family again on the next Thanksgiving. They hadn’t seen each other in months at that point, though they had called each other regularly and wrote almost daily.

Her hair was shorter, and perhaps a little lighter, too. She was tan, her skin with that sun-kissed look that made him look like a ghost and so pale that he got dangerously close to glowing in the dark.

His grandmother took one look at them before she laughed and informed his mother that Ziva would not be needing the guest bedroom after all. It was the first time he ever really saw her blush and it made him grin so hard his face threatened to split. He hadn’t told his mother about their relationship, unsure of how things would be between them, how long-distance would work for them. But the moment he’d spotted her in the crowd when he’d gone to pick her up at the airport, all the butterflies in his stomach had taken off again and then they’d kissed and it had felt like no time had passed since they’d last seen each other, when the semester was over and Ziva finally really had to return to Israel, for good.

They were lying in his bed after dinner, dressed, the door to his room closed but not locked. A condition of his mother to allow them to sleep in one room. It had made Tim roll his eyes but much to his surprise, Ziva had readily agreed, admitting that she had missed falling asleep with him holding her when they were finally alone.

“I have a confession to make.” she murmured into the darkness, causing Tim to shift to look at her, his heart beating frantically in his chest as he thought of the many ways she could break up with him.

“Yeah?” he got out, flinching at the sound of his voice. Ziva noticed and rolled her eyes at him before she leaned up to brush her lips over his.

“No, I am not reconsidering us, nor have I met anyone else.” she told him before growing serious. She searched his face before reaching up and running her hand through his hair. “I missed you.” she whispered, causing Tim to blink at her.

“I missed you, too.” he responded, confused as to how that would clarify as a confession. Ziva stroked his cheek, searching his eyes.

“My ticket here, it was one way.” Ziva said. “I have been in contact with a friend of my aunt, he works for a publishing company. They need translators, especially for the Middle Eastern market.”

Tim furrowed his brows, trying to catch up with what she was saying.

“You… have a job? Here?”

His girlfriend started nodding before she paused. “In the US, yes. The company is based in Baltimore, though they have already warned me it might include some travelling.” she answered, the smile slowly disappearing from her face when he failed to react. “Is that… do you no want me to stay?” she asked, her voice uncertain. Tim stared at her before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a kiss.

“You’re crazy.” he mumbled against her lips, cradling her head and trying to pull her even closer. “Of course I want you to stay.”

“Good.” Ziva smiled, cuddling close again. “Because I need someone to help me find an apartment and I am sure there are many things about that that will require an extra set of hands.”

Tim nodded, looking down at her again. He suddenly grew serious, the giddiness he had felt upon hearing that Ziva would stay in the US, would be so much closer to him slowly dissipating.

“Let’s get an apartment together.” he suddenly said. Ziva’s eyes widened before she shook her head.

“You are still in college-”

“I finish this term.” Tim reminded her. “And I can probably find a job in Baltimore as well as in any other city.” he added, watching her. “And I’m serious about us. I want to be with you, I want to be close to you.”

“Two months ago you were thinking of joining NCIS.” Ziva reminded him, sitting up.

“I was just throwing around ideas.” her boyfriend shook his head. “And if you don’t want us to live together, that’s fine. Really, I get it. I just, I want to be close to you. So don’t be surprised if I end up finding a place there that is awfully close to yours.”

The Israeli watched him, a smile tugging at her lips as she shook her head at him in an attempt of a glare.

“You are impossible.” she told him, holding up her hand. “I am not saying yes right now. I have to talk to my aunt, seeing as she will cover the security deposit for me and has agree to help with buying some furniture. If she agrees and we find a place we both like, then I am not going to say no, though. But,” Ziva told him when Tim’s face broke out into a grin, “you are the one telling your mother why on earth you suddenly want to move to Baltimore of all places.”

“She’ll understand.” Tim shrugged, reaching out to take Ziva’s hand and entwined their fingers. His heart was suddenly beating rapidly in his chest. He’d just decided a huge part of his future in the matter of what, ten seconds? But looking at Ziva, at the smile on her face and the happiness and joy in her eyes, he knew that he’d been right. This was what he wanted, he wanted to be with her. He would have moved halfway around the world if there had been a way for him to somehow manage that with his studies, so really, moving to Baltimore, that seemed like almost nothing compared to what Ziva was doing, what she was leaving behind. And if she was willing to put that much faith in their relationship then he was going to do the same thing.

_fin._


	13. history repeating itself

> _Imagine your OTP seeing each other for the first time in years._

Ziva looked up from the file on the table, her lips moving into a warm smile.

“Hello, McGee,” she greeted him as Tim pulled up a chair and sat down at her table in the cafeteria.

“Rogers told me you were here. I had to see it for myself,” he shrugged, feeling a little weird. It sounded like he had come to stare at some animal in the zoo, and that wasn’t how he had meant it. It was just… he hadn’t seen her in years. Seven years. Well, six years, eleven months and eighteen days. It wasn’t like he kept track of it, of the time since the moment Ziva walked out of his life, out of the lives of everyone on the team. But back then, everything had been so confusing and it had all blown up in their faces, from the terrorist attack to the kidnapping, to the NCIS agents they lost that day that he never really got the date out of his head.

Ziva made a face and closed the file. She shifted back in her chair and turned her body towards him and Tim found himself swallow. He hadn’t wanted her full attention.

“Yes, well… they requested me,” Ziva shrugged, reaching up to run her hair through her hair. It was shorter, only fell to her shoulders, and she had left it in its naturally curly state for a change. Or maybe that was how she always wore it now. Looking at her, he felt reminded of the way she had been when she first came to work at NCIS. Her wardrobe also was back to cargo pants, a tank top and a large shirt over that.

“I know, I saw the letter,” Tim nodded, swallowing. “I didn’t think you’d come, though,” he admitted, his voice softer. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Hadn’t said goodbye, actually. A night of sex, and then when he’d woken up, he’d still been in Ziva’s apartment, but her closet had been empty, her laptop and the picture on her nightstand gone. He’d tried writing her emails, but after a while he got an error notification back, that the address didn’t exist, and her cell phone had been disconnected, too. She contacted Abby after two weeks, told her she had quit NCIS and to not come looking for her, that she needed a fresh start, a new beginning. Abby had tried to fight, but Tim gave up after another week. She was gone, she wanted to be gone and he didn’t think he’d ever see her again, so the faster he got over that, the faster he could move on with his life.

Ziva nodded, watching his face.

“You look different,” she said, furrowing her brows before she reached out and traced a line on his forehead. “Evan giving you a hard time?”

He really shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew the name of his son. He’d suspected she kept tabs on the team from time to time, even had at times hoped she did, and when she’d see that he was happy, that he’d found a wife and had a son, that it would hurt her. But that had been an illusion.

“No, he’s a good kid,” Tim shook his head, feeling his own forehead. “I think I got that one during the divorce.”

Ziva visibly cringed and his eyebrows shot up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” she started, but Tim waved her off.

“Don’t be. It was mutual; just, figuring everything out, the logistics of shared custody, that part was a bit rough.”

She swallowed and nodded, looking down at her nails. Tim followed her line of sight, his eyes widening when he detected the lighter skin around the base of her ring finger.

“You ever get married?” he asked her outright. Ziva shook her head. She bit her lip and when she looked up, there was a sadness in her eyes that made him regret he’d asked her.

“No, we, didn’t make it that far,” she told him, now running her index finger over her naked ring finger. “We got engaged, though. Set a date. And then he just had to go on this stupid mission…” she shook her head, holding up her hand. “He’s been dead for a year, I put in the headstone three days ago. Only managed to take off the ring then.”

“I’m sorry, Ziva,” Tim muttered, reaching out to squeeze her hand. He really hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Had, for a moment, forgotten that she’d gone back to Mossad, forgotten how dangerous that line of work was, and that Israel itself was not the safest place anyway.

“Don’t be,” she shook her head, turning her hand to its palm was touching Tim’s and she could return the pressure. “It’s good, to talk about him. Sometimes I am, afraid, of forgetting him.”

He didn’t miss how she tiptoed around the name of her late fiancé. She knew his marriage with Abby hadn’t worked out, but wasn’t comfortable enough sharing the name of the person she had lost any more. He understood, they hadn’t talked to each other in years, but still, it hurt. It hurt how easy it had been to ruin their friendship so entirely, it seemed.

“Do you wanna come over for dinner?” he suddenly asked her before he knew what he was saying. All he knew was that he wanted to spend time with her, wanted to get to know her again, and if possible, catch up on missed time.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Ziva shook her head, looking into his eyes, “given how we parted.”

Tim took a slow, deliberate breath and pulled his hand back.

“I’m not angry at you,” he told her. “I was, for some time, but I think I understand. And I know that there will be nothing of the sort between us again. I just, I want to talk to you, Ziva. I missed you, I missed my friend.”

The Israeli watched him, scrutinized his face before her lips twitched into a soft smile and she gave a nod.

“I would enjoy that very much, Timothy,” she told him, and Tim swallowed at the sound of his name on her lips.

* * *

As his head hit the wall, Tim blinked, wondering briefly how on earth this had started, but then Ziva’s lips were on his again and he suddenly didn’t care all that much when exactly their conversation had turned to kisses and then, like someone had flipped a switch, the kisses had turned desperate and Ziva had been tearing at his clothes.

His hands settled on her hips and he pushed her back, drawing a growl from her when she thought he was going to stop this, but nothing could have been further from his mind. He knew it was wrong, that they shouldn’t be doing this, that neither one of them had any idea who the other was any more, after years of silence between them. But damn, he wanted this. He wanted to touch her, wanted to kiss her, wanted to fuck her. But he was starting to get a bit older and the floor didn’t sound half as appealing as the bedroom, so he merely started steering them down the hall, moving his hands over her hips to her back and squeezing her ass.

Ziva gave him a look and Tim raised his eyebrow at her, making her throw her head back and laugh as her hands twisted into his hair and then she pulled him back down to her for another needy kiss. Part of him felt reminded of the first time they had sex, all those years before. It had started out the same, desperate and needy, but there was something different about this, too. All the desperation went out of them when they stood in front of each other, naked, and Tim saw the scar starting on Ziva’s left collarbone and running up to her shoulder, disappearing down her back. He raised his hand, gently touching his fingertips to it before he began tracing the raised tissue, following its path down to where her shoulder blade ended. Ziva watched his face, watched as he frowned, trying to figure out how she might have gotten this one, before she reached up, touching her hand to his forearm and pulling his hand back before raising it and pressing a kiss into his open palm, her eyes closed.

“Tim,” she whispered with a minute shake of her head, stepping closer until their bodies were touching and she could snake her arms around him. She reached up again, brushing the pads of her fingers over the lines on his forehead and running it through the greying hair at his temples, her lips moving into a smile again.

“Timothy.”

Just the way she said his name made his heart flutter in his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him. Ziva let out a soft sound of surprise but then relaxed into the embrace, holding onto him as he started crying, her hands combing through his hair in a soothing caress.

“I’m here,” she muttered, over and over as his tears fell onto her shoulder and he tried to calm down, tried to push the thought that she could have died, the memories of the times they’d heard of Israeli casualties, of Mossad agents being killed and the times he’d had wondered if one of them might’ve been her away.

They did have sex. It was different from that first time. Less fumbling, less trying to figure out what the other liked. Because they both still remembered, remembered the little touches and the sounds they got in response. No, this was more like making love, though even in his head, Tim was hesitant to call it that, as he watched her sleep afterwards. She looked so peaceful, like she belonged into his bed, and he wondered if this had been how she’d looked the first time. He didn’t know, never would know, but he doubted it. Something told him that Ziva hadn’t slept a wink that night, had been wide awake once he’d drifted off, maybe because she’d known what she was about to do next and waited for an opportunity to steal away in the dead of the night, literally. Or maybe she’d been watching him, like he was watching her now, and then she’d suddenly been struck by some weird thought that had made her bolt.

She still had the tattoo from before. The cherry blossoms on the inside of her thigh. He reached out to trace the outline of a flower, again struck by what a strange choice it was, and Ziva stirred, turning onto her back as she blinked her eyes open. She furrowed her brows before she found him in the dark. For a split second, he feared that she’d bolt again, but Ziva just relaxed and scooted up to kiss him.

“What time is it?” she asked him, looking around for a clock.

“Don’t know,” Tim shrugged, furrowing his brows as he tried to remember where his watch had disappeared to. He reached out to rest his hand on her waist, running his thumb over her skin as he wondered what to say next. He wanted to say so much but he had no idea how to put his thoughts into words, no idea what to say in order to keep from scaring her off again.

“Should I worry about Evan making a sudden appearance?” Ziva inquired, scooting closer and resting her head against his chest. Tim’s arm snaked around her, pulled her impossibly closer.

“It’s Abby’s week with him,” he informed her, unable to resist leaning in and pressing a kiss to her messy curls. Ziva let out a content sigh.

“Good, because I had absolutely no intention of getting up to cover myself,” she murmured, stretching a little and tilting her head so she could look at him. There was mischief dancing in her eyes and he felt her hand run down his back before it gave his ass a little squeeze. Tim watched her, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat as he realized just how much he liked this moment, how much he wanted it to last. He reached out, tracing his hand down her arm, watching his fingers glide over her skin.

“Dime for your thoughts?” Ziva whispered, shivering against him.

“Penny. It’s ‘penny for your thoughts’,” he corrected her absent-mindedly.

“I think your thoughts are worth more than merely a penny,” the Israeli shook her head in amusement before sobering. “Tim, what is wrong?”

“You’re gonna leave again,” he answered after a pause. “It’ll be just like last time, only you’re leaving for a different reason. Or not, I don’t even know.”

Ziva slowly sat up and ran a hand through her hair. She watched him, her mouth covered as she let out a sigh.

“I should not have come here,” she slowly said, letting her hand fall away. Tim swallowed thickly before he shook his head.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed, feeling his heart constrict. “But I’m glad you did,” he added, watching the corners of her mouth tug upwards a little. He watched her run her hand over the sheets repeatedly.

“Want me to pretend I’m asleep?” he asked her and Ziva looked at him, her dark eyes wide. “I’m not stupid, Ziva. You wanna leave, you know where the door is.”

The Israeli swallowed before she gave a curt nod and threw the covers back. Tim wanted to close his eyes as she started looking around for her clothes but he forced himself to look. Forced himself to watch as she got dressed and checked her reflection briefly. Watched as she walked around the bed and bent down to brush her lips over his forehead.

“Goodbye, Timothy,” she muttered, running the pads of her thumbs over his cheeks, hesitating briefly before she straightened again, grabbed her shoes and walked from his bedroom. He sat there, completely frozen, until he heard the front door to his apartment open and close, and then he continued to just sit in the dark, wondering why he hadn’t tried to stop her.


End file.
